


Strange Bedfellows

by Zilchtastic



Category: House M.D.
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-05
Updated: 2010-02-05
Packaged: 2017-10-07 01:08:40
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/59724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zilchtastic/pseuds/Zilchtastic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"We don't need an explanation. Unless you're pregnant." House pulled a long, mock-worried face. "Oh god, you're pregnant, aren't you. How do I even know it's mine, you tramp?"</p><p>Wilson rolled his eyes. "Right. Make jokes about it, House, that'll make it all go away."</p>
            </blockquote>





	Strange Bedfellows

**Author's Note:**

> My first, last, and only House, M.D. fic. It's a little embarrassing! I blame it on too much sugar before bedtime.

"House," Wilson started firmly, first thing in the morning, "do you even know what this _means_\--"

"It doesn't mean _anything_. You know why it doesn't mean anything? Hold on, the answer might shock you. Sometime during my formative years, I kissed a _girl_ and I _liked it_." House sat up in bed and gesticulated wildly, like he was fending off bees or maybe doing jazz hands. "I know, I'm as surprised as you are. Who knew?"

Wilson sighed wearily and ran a hand through his hair. "That still doesn't explain why we had sex."

"There is no explanation. A moment of delusion, a drunken pass--"

"I wasn't drunk, and neither were you. And you just said there was no explanation."

"We don't need an explanation. Unless you're pregnant." House pulled a long, mock-worried face. "Oh god, you're pregnant, aren't you. How do I even know it's mine, you tramp?"

Wilson rolled his eyes. "Right. Make jokes about it, House, that'll make it all go away."

"It might make _you_ go away," came the irritable reply.

"Not happening, unless you can help me find my pants. I'm pretty sure I was wearing them when I came over last night."

House crossed his arms over his chest, managing to look sulky and pissed all at once. "It wasn't even _good_ sex," he grumbled, _sotto voce_.

"That's not what you said last night."

Again with the crazy hand-waving. "Give me a break! You blow like a high school gym teacher. No, don't ask how I know that. And where did you miss the part where we're not talking about this? Because we're not talking about this."

"We're not?" Wilson managed to keep his voice very mild. "Then I guess I'm just lying in bed naked with you in a strictly platonic way."

"You _could_ be."

"Not with your genetic material presently dried to a tacky residue all over my left thigh, I'm not."

House apparently gave up there, because he let his head sink into his hands. "If I said it was the Vicodin, would you believe me?"

"Not unless you got your starting-with-V prescriptions mixed up and they gave you little blue pills instead. And then, still no."

House let out a miserable whimper. Wilson almost felt sorry for him, but then he remembered his missing pants.

"You owe me for dry-cleaning," he said, leaning to look over the edge of the bed.

"You owe me for the night. I don't come cheap, you know."

"No, but you do come quickly and loudly."

House gave him the I-will-throttle-you-now look, but what he said was, "So, again?"

"No." Wilson bit his tongue. "...Yes."

"That's what I thought." House tugged the covers back up and Wilson back down. "And we're not talking about this. There is no 'this' to talk about, got it?"

Wilson couldn't help the smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. "Whatever the doctor orders."


End file.
